


5 Years

by DontAsaltSnails



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 5 years, Actual ship, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Dream Sex, Established Relationship, John mentioned, Lonely Sherlock, Lonliness, M/M, Missing Persons, Moriarty - Freeform, Moriarty is Dead, My Poor Babes, Mycroft mentioned, No abuse, OR IS HE, Sheriarty - Freeform, Sherlock - Freeform, Sherlock S3, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, angsty angst, attempted suicide, feelsy smut, i love these boys, jimlock, porn with a plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 00:02:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8229287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontAsaltSnails/pseuds/DontAsaltSnails
Summary: Jim's hasn't been gone. He's been with Sherlock.. Well, only the memory of him, that is.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one-shot with smut, angst, and a bit of fluff to fix it all.
> 
> I don't usually write smut, but I wanted this to be feelsy and well angsty. Originally it was going to be darker but my friend wished for a happy ending.. So, I promise not a terribly sad ending! :D 
> 
> Please read the tags for warnings and stuff.

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“A-Ah fuck, James, y-Yes there,” Sherlock gasped in heavy pants, sweet pleasure swirling and building in his stomach. Jim groaned softly, gripping Sherlock’s hips even tighter, “you feel s-so good.” He hissed as he pounded into his lover. Sherlock pushed his face into the pillows on his bed. He was attempting to silence the pleased moans bubbling their way out of his throat. Jim however wouldn’t have any of that, he grabbed and tugged the dark curls on Sherlock’s head, angled his hips, and hit the delicious spot inside of him; this made the detective spark in hot burning pleasure and grow much louder.

“Sh-Sherlock, god, so good. The best. Sherlock. Fuck.” Jim hung his head back, continuing his relentless fucking of his partner’s ass in the air. “Y-you’re so good. So hot. Ah, we need to do- do this more haaaah, Fff–”

“J-James, I’m close.. I’m going to..”

Jim slowed his thrusts into Sherlock, hitting his sweet spot slow and steady. “J- fuck,“ the trembling detective attempted to speak, “th-this is cruel.”

“No, what’s cruel is it’s been years since I’ve enjoyed this fine ass of yours.”

“Don’t say that. Sh-shut up now,” Sherlock hissed, and James continued his slow lazy thrusts, teasing the man horribly and slowly. Jim leaned down giving small kisses and hot licks up Sherlock’s back. His hips still sensually rolling and rutting slowly against his lover’s bum.

Sherlock was so close to the edge, and yet being held back by James. It had been so long since he last felt this man’s heat inside of him, “James, f-uck me.” God, he missed this. Jim replied with a nip to Sherlock’s spine, and the warmth of his chest against Sherlock’s back. His face resting on his lover’s shoulder, placing soft wet kisses now. Hips rolling even slower, “Beg, Sherly. I know you know how.. Tell me how much you missed this..” And Sherlock couldn’t hold it back anymore, he canted his hips back and groaned out deeply, “please. James, I’ve missed you. F-fuck me. Love me. I need you.. I need you.. I need you, James.” He continued softly chanting his lover’s name. James gave a groan, just what he needed to hear, “too long, Sherlock. Much too long,” and he finally gave Sherlock what he wanted. He picked up pace again, now slamming hard and fast into that perfect little spot in Sherlock’s anal cavity. Sherlock yelped and pressed back against James, it wasn’t long before both men came in hot white spurts.

They stayed like that a moment, James still planted firmly inside Sherlock, who was a panting sweating mess. Finally, Sherlock mustered up the energy to face the elephant in the room. “James, ha-have you missed me?” His voice cracked. He hadn’t meant to fall in love with the criminal, nor had he expected James to have… Well… He didn’t want to remember that right now.

“I don’t know, Sherlock.. Can the dead miss anyone?”

And with that, Sherlock just couldn’t ignore it anymore. He choked back a sob, why did he do this to himself? Why did James have to do that? Why? Tears. Sherlock couldn’t hold them anymore, tears slipping past, hot wet streams rolling down his cheeks.

“J-James,” he choked out, feeling more broken than he had before. “Sherlock..” he heard the Irish accent and then a warm loving kiss placed onto his back, just like James had done when he were alive. “Sherlock, I-”

“Why, James. Why. Why did you do it? Why did you kill yourself? Why did you do this to me? Five years, James. FIVE,” And with that, the warmth of James Moriarty vanished just like his mind had created it. This was all just a dream, a longing. Yes, it was a dream. James wasn’t dead. He’d wake up next to him, except Sherlock knew that wasn’t quite true. He’d wake up alone. He’d wake alone and cold, remembering the pistol in the nightstand, and like always, he’d place it in his mouth just like James had, until the time he had the courage to pull the trigger. Just like James had pulled his trigger. Why couldn’t this dream just have stayed like it was before? Why couldn’t it end with sweet words? Why? Because then it would hurt more. His mind subconciously working to protect himself as much as it could.

“Sherlock, wake up..” the smooth tone of his dead lover’s voice whispered into his ear.

The dream blacked out. Sherlock was alone even in his fantasies. Then, he woke up to a cold, empty bed. He always woke up alone, cold, and dead inside ever since that day those long five years ago. Only seeing his lover in dreams and drugged out states. Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut, he felt numb and yet he hurt so much. The pain in his heart still hurt so fucking much. He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t. Sherlock reached into the drawer, grabbing the snub-nosed revolver inside. He cocked the gun and sat up. He turned the 38. Calibur pistol in his hand, an empty look in his eyes. It was time. He couldn’t wake to this anymore. He just couldn’t, not again.

He placed the barrel into his mouth, pushing it up against the roof. He closed his eyes, finger on the trigger, he began to apply gentle pressure, not enough yet to make it fire just yet. He had already thought of his friends, reasoned with himself nobdy would really miss him. Not even, John. John had Mary now. He didn’t need Sherlock, anymore. Just as he had that thought a text buzzed in on his phone. Probably John, don’t look just pull the trigger.. He cheated a glance at the screen as it buzzed again. A photo of the building’s door? Of the 221B.. Removing the gun from his mouth, Sherlock shifted over to his phone. He slid the screen, looking at the other message.

_Did you miss me? I missed you, Sherlock. I really did. xx_

No, it couldn’t be. Next, he swiped over to the text of 221B. There was text with it:

_I’m home xx_

Sherlock’s heart sank. Was he halleucinating again? Was this another dream? He heard creaking. It was the familiar creaking of the steps up to his apartment. Sherlock scrambled out of bed, staring out his bedroom door at the front. The handle turned and there he was. A pale suit, pale flesh, perfectly styled hair, and god that accent, “Sherlock.”

“James.”

A moment of silence before the detective rushed over throwing desperate arms around the man, afraid he’d just vanish like in his dreams. The warm arms of Moriarty wrapped around Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock hid his face into Jim’s hair, “I hate you.”

“I know, sweetie..I love you, too.. and I’m sorry.”

“Fucking christ James.. How? Why?”

“It was the only way.. Mycroft figured us out.. I made a deal with him.. For well, Moriarty to die..” James nuzzled into Sherlock. “God, I missed you. I missed this.”

“You expect me to believe, my brother thinks you’re dead?” James shook his head, “no, he wanted me to fix what I had caused with our little game.. and I played along with him.”

“But why?”

“I just wanted you, silly. Now, come on.. Let’s get you back in bed.. It’s too early for this.” Sherlock only nodded, he was happy James was back, but also furious and so very tired. James shrugged off his jacket, leaving it on the couch, he followed Sherlock. Frowning at the pistol on the bed, James sighed and took it in his hand.

“Sherlock..”

“I missed you..” They crawled into the bed.

Jim wrapped his arms around Sherlock. “Shh, I love you, Sherlock. I love you..” He placed a soft kiss in Sherlock’s curls.

“I missed you.. James, I missed you” the words came out broken.

“I missed you, too.”

  
  
  
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Sherlock woke. The air was cold. The bed was cold. He winced, another dream? No.. God, no. It was a drea– Warm fingers wound into his curls, soft warm breaths on his skin. He closed his eyes, tears slipping.

It wasn’t a dream. He wasn’t alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! Comments and kudos are welcomed and cherished!!


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